you'll never know, dear (how much i love you)
by Captain Harley Quinn
Summary: "You are my sunshine," Stiles laughs, half-heated and broken as red blood spills across his blue lips. It's their song.


|| Teen Wolf ||you'll never know, dear (how much I love you) || Teen Wolf ||

**Title: **you'll never know, dear (how much I love you) – _please, don't take my sunshine away_

**Summary: **_"You are my sunshine," _Stiles laughs, half-heated and broken as red blood spills across his blue 's their song.

**Rating:** T – K+ (Teen and Up)

**Warnings: **Major Character Death. Magick. Witches. Slash. Het. Singing. Spark!Stiles. Sane!Peter. Graphic imagery of injury. Depiction of Magick. Depiction of Grievous Injury. Fingering. Frottage

**Main Characters: **Peter Hale. Stiles Stilinski.

**Side Characters: **Derek Hale. Erica Reyes. Vernon Boyd. Isaac Lahey. Allison Argent. Scott McCall. Alan Deaton.

**Main Pairings: **Peter/Stiles.

**Side Pairings: **Boyd/Erica. Scott/Allison

**Disclaimer: **All rights reserved to who created the _Teen Wolf_ series and everything else related to _Teen Wolf_. No money is profited from this, though reviews are more than welcome.

||Teen Wolf ||you'll never know, dear (how much I love you) ||Teen Wolf ||

The first time Peter sings it to Stiles, it is in the midst of them courting.

Stiles is sitting at the table, school books strewn across the Stilinski house table. Peter, clad in an apron that Stiles notices is too small for him, is at the stove, cooking something that Stiles isn't familiar with but smells delicious.

The radio is playing.

Peter has his back of Stiles, but Stiles knows Peter is watching him out of his peripheral vision. It makes him smile into the sleeve of his two large cashmere jumper that he had swiped from Peter. It still smelt like him.

Stiles is tapping his pen against his chewed lips as he stares down at his AP American Literature homework when Peter crows loudly, spatula falling to the counter even as he turns up the radio.

He turns to Stiles and strikes a ridiculous pose.

Stiles giggles.

Peter raises an eyebrow. "_The other night dear, as I lay sleeping,"_ he sings in time to Johnny Cash's wonderful tone. Stiles snorts.

"_I dreamed I held you in my arms,"_ He did this sort of ridiculous wiggle of his hips that made Stiles both laugh loudly in amusement and aroused. Peter waggled his eyebrows.

Stiles coughed his amusement.

"_You are my sunshine_,"

Peters tone had turned fond as he danced and wiggled his way towards a helplessly fitting Stiles who made his amusement known. _"My only sunshine_,"

Peter was snorting with laughter even as he grabbed one of Stiles' ink stained hands and pulled him up.

"_You make me happy_, _when skies are grey,"_

Peter had pulled Stiles flush against him before they started to sway slowly, revolving gracefully on the spot.

"_You'll never know, dear,_"

Peter pressed a chaste kiss to the young teens forehead as Stiles looked up at him with wide, Bambi-large eyes. He smiled lazily, enjoying the moment.

"_How much I love you_,"

Stiles wraps his arm tighter around Peters chest, linking his fingers behind Peters neck to play with the growing strands there. It feels like –

It feels like _home_.

"_Please, don't take my sunshine away,_"

(stiles has never loved him more)

o0o

"I'm in love with you," Peter whispered into the darkness surrounding him. The moonlight played patterns across their faces.

Stiles turned his head. In the moonlight, Peter seemed pale, and somewhat afraid – and a little hopeful.

Stiles smiled, small and thin but so sincere Peter thought his heart would break.

"I love you, too,"

o0o

Peter kissed so differently than he fought.

He fought with anger in his heart and agony on the tip of his tongue.

He kissed, however, like he was a drowning man. Soft and sweet, with a hint of possessive passion that threatened to overwhelm the person he was kissing. Stiles thought it suited him perfectly.

"_Please,_-" Stiles keened, high pitched and with a whine as Peter's sheer use of force threatened to unseat the human. Peter hummed in the back of his throat. Sharpened fangs scratched affectionately at a trembling wrist – Stiles absently noticed it was the one Peter had threatened to bite once before.

"_Hold on, delicate one,_" was whispered fondly into Stiles' ear.

He whined.

It was his first time, Peter knew, but Stiles reacted with little whines and whimpers that Peter had never expected. The greedy way he took Peter's fingers, an expression of such sheer _open_ pleasure had taken his breath away as Stiles had writhed, as if in agonising pleasure, on the sweat-slick duvets of the broad queen-sized bed.

Peter had never seen anything as beautiful.

o0o

Disaster falls on Dooms Day.

Alan has visited them recently, grim mouthed and sombre faced and Peter had clutches Stiles to him tightly as tightly as bodily possible even as the pack sat around them.

"They're coming," was all Alan had said.

There was need to ask who _they _were.

_Witches_.

It had been a year, fully, since the day they had last seen them. Broken and slaughtered, but they had promised revenge. Stiles wonders if he'll live through it.

It had been his magick, his _Spark_ that had destroyed their hideout, had stripped their ugly talismans of their beautiful power, and had freed the faeries they had trapped cruelly in toxic glass jars that had wasted their elemental powers.

(he knows he probably won't survive)

Derek, eyes glowing red and wide, snarled at the threat hidden beneath the warning and turned to Stiles and through no scorn was in his gaze, Stiles knew it was his fault. Peter clasps his hand. Stiles shivers.

It won't take long.

o0o

In the midst of preparations, Stiles is up to his ears in magick books and talismans are strewn across the table.

He smells of fear.

"Peter?" Stiles questioned, staring up over the cusp of his black glasses that are perched on his nose even if most of his attention is glued to the text book written in a careful mixture of Russian and Ancient Latin. Peter stills, before turning,

Still, he paces.

Stiles heaves a quite sigh before tucking aside his glasses and various books written in various foreign languages. He burrows inside Peter's suit blazer, thick and warm in the Hales Library room.

(stiles had been sleeping in there for a little over a week)

Peter stills slowly, even as Stiles easily wraps thin arms around the broadness of Peters chest and buries his face into the silk shirt Peter wore. Peter made an odd noise in the back of his throat, a hand coming down to card his fingers through Stiles' lengthening hair.

Stiles breaths lazily.

"_You are my sunshine-"_

o0o

The Witches are gruesome figures.

They look human, all of twenty two with prettily pale skin and wide purples eyes and Snow White Red Lips. Magick has drowned them.

Florentine, a pretty girl with flower red hair and wide eyes steps forward and though Derek, with his wide Alpha Eyes and Growl, threatens them to come further, her eyes are still stuck fast to Stiles burning amber ones.

Magick is one with him.

Florentine does not speak, only tilts her head and _smiles_.

Her finger tips glow purple.

His decimation begins.

o0o

"_You are my sunshine,"_

Stiles laughs, half-heated and broken as red blood spills across his blue lips.

It's their song.

Peter is clutching him tightly, his out stretched legs cradling Stiles' cooling body as his arms held the youngers torso as he rocked back and forth, tear-strewn face staring into the distance as he rested a trembling chin on the top of the humans limp head.

Stiles, shivering with coldness even as pain twanged through his body, gave a quivering smile, dry lips stretching and cracking as he reached a weak hand up to clutch weakly at one of the arms around his chest.

"Pe-Peter," he whispered slowly, voice cracking as pain pitched it higher than usual.

"_M-my only sunshine,"_

"_Pe-ter_," Peter gives a low whine in the back of his throat.

It breaks his heart, to see this once powerful beta with the bright blue eyes break down in tears over someone as inconsequential as Stiles. He reaches a trembling hand up, dripping with blood. He holds it up to Peter's tear-stained cheek, skimming blood stained digits on the unblemished skin.

Blood streaked his flesh

"_You make-make me happy, when skie-skies are g-grey," _Peters crying.

He's crying.

Not loud, crocodile sobs, but chest bursting, heart breaking silent sobs that wrack his entire body. His tears fall silent.

Stiles feels a single silent tear fall down his cheeks from his burning amber eyes. He loves this man, loves his almost invisible scars and all his mental problems and his grief that he could never let go off. He loves this man, with the hard heart and the sharp tongue who loves with a love that is almost more than love, who loves with a bleeding heart and an aching mind.

"_You'll never know, dear,_"

Stiles loves this man.

Slowly, trembling, _painstaking_, Stiles weakly lifted a trembling hand to press it into one of Peter's blood soaked hands. It was pressed to his neck, trying to keep the blood from spilling onto Stiles' chest.

He wishes Peter wouldn't bother.

But Peter, though he feels the tugging against his hand doesn't allow Stiles to pull it away, still trying to save his mate. Stiles coughs, a wracking eruption that makes pain zing through his entire body and though the black veins on Peter's hand means he is trying to take away the pain, the edge is not taken off.

They both know it's the end.

But Stiles can't leave without doing at least this once more.

Though weak with blood loss and almost unable to keep his eyes open, he struggles to lift himself up. Peter, crying and looking as heart broken as he obviously feels, shifts to accommodate and Stiles smiles because that is his Peter through and through.

"_How much I love you,_"

He presses bloody lips to tear-stained ones.

They can't kiss, Stiles too weak and Peter far too morose to do anything but press stained lips to stained lips and _breathe_ in each other.

Peter breaths deeply once, keeping a twisted Stiles pressed so closely to him, he can feel as well as hear the boys fluttering heart beat against his chest.

He wonders if this is his penance.

(he hopes it isn't)

Peter is the one that pulls away first, breathing broken and distorted by sadness and fury that his mate is being ripped away from him. He wants to rage, cry and howl to Mother Moon because how _could she do this_?

(but it isn't Mother Moon at fault)

Their foreheads rest together, and Peter traces trembling fingers across gaunt features, through hollow cheeks and the noble arching of a blood specked eyebrow. Stiles smiles vaguely. His eyes are dimmed and Peter is saddened because those should be bright amber, on par with any other Beta.

(but they aren't now)

A trembling hand presses weakly to Peters stained cheek and Peter knows he will find bloodied streaks in the smudged pattern of fingers marking his skin.

("_Stiles_,")

A breath.

_("Peter,_")

A whine.

("_I love you,")_

A hand falls weakly to the ground.

_("I love you, too_,")

Peter cries, cradling Stiles to him that much closer.

"_So please, do-don't take my sun-sunshine away,"_

_._

_(_a low howl sounds, mournful and haunting)

.

(the pack weeps)

o0o

**Authors Note:** It's vague, yes, extraordinarily vague that doesn't really give away a lot of detail apart from the ending.

That, my readers, is on total purpose.

Please _Read and Review_ to tell me what you think!


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